Difficult
by SlimJonas4ever
Summary: The fictional story of Eminem and his late best friend Proof, and how Eminem got over his drug addiction and Proof's untimely death.


_"They ask me if I'm okay_

_They ask me if I'm happy _

_Are they asking me that because of the shit that's been thrown at me_

_Or am I just a little snappy and they genuinely care_

_Doody, most of my its just been me and you there..."_

"D?" I asked, diverting my attention from the game. Deshaun was beating me by 6 points even, and I was sweating like Satan touched a flaming finger to my skin. He was dribbling the basketball on the black concrete court with a cheeky grin on his face, small dimples exposing themselves through the darkness of his skin and the shadow of the descending sun. The court was fading, old and overused, the sidelines and others being almost invisible in translation to the concrete. Sometimes I wondered how it got this way. I remembered the first time me and Deshaun came here, the court being new and shiny and almost too good to be true. Now it was boring and ugly, and me and him were the only ones who ever used it anymore.

"Yeah Marsh?" he asked, huffing and puffing under the direct ray of the sun. I tried to focus on the game, not how sexy he looked all sweaty and excited. Apparently he was more interested in the game than the conversation, considering how he ignored me whilst swishing past me for a slam dunk into the net. By that point I almost couldn't breathe, yet he still had enough energy to point and laugh at me. "Haha! You so stupid dawg! I gotchu! I gotchu!"

And that's when I chuckled as he danced around the court with a huge smile on his face. He continued to sing-song his reign of awesomeness.

"Doo...Doody...wa...wait..." I attempted to say. He just giggled and put a warm hand on my back. That sent tingles all throughout my body, flowing throughout me in a fast and psychotic rhythm. I unintentionally jerked my body up, his hand leaving me as if it had been burned.

"Yo dawg, you a'ight man?" he asked from behind me. I labored my breathing desperately so I could explain myself, like trying to answer someone with your mouth full of food.

"Doody, we been friends for like...forever, right?" I asked, still facing away from him. He hesitated an answer, and I could almost taste the confused expression on his face, like it was tangible.

"Yeah," he answered matter of factly. He answered with that raspy voice that I only heard in my dreams. Dreams that left me painfully hard and gasping. Sort of like right now.

"Well, I been thinkin'," I started, not quite yet brave enough to kill the murderous and painful silence between us. "We do...we do everything together and uh..."

"Fuck man! Spit it out! You're giving me a coronary!" he chanted. Not a second later he was directly in front of me, worry on his face and beautiful dark eyes breaking into me slowly.

"I wanted to...do one thing together. One thing that might make you run away and never wanna see me again," I said without looking into those piercing eyes. Bad idea. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into him until I was looking directly into my eyes. Black on blue.

"What the fuck is it before I punch you in the nose," he seethed angrily. If there was one thing Proof could do well, it was scaring the living shit out of you.

I surprised myself when I finally closed my eyes and planted a thick one on those luscious lips of his. Lips that I have wanted to taste and lick and bite until they were nothing, like a poor man's last meal. My stomach sunk when he didn't kiss back. I tried and tried and tried, but those damned lips wouldn't budge. Suddenly I realized I couldn't keep pretending my life could end up as a fairytale. It would always suck. Proof wasn't going to be the prince to sweep me off my feet, and I wasn't any Cinderella. I ended the fraction of a kiss.

He let go of my shoulders immediately, allowing me to run like hell away from him. Away from the humiliation. Away from the pain. Away from the misread storybook ending.

With tears in my eyes, he chanted, "MARSH! MARSHALL! WAIT!" I never looked back.

I made it home in under ten minutes.

_"I never got to say I love you as much as I wanted to_

_But I do_

_Yeah I say it now and you can't hear me_

_What the fuck good does that do me now?"_

Proof and I hadn't spoken in weeks. I couldn't even count the amount of times I cried and sobbed lying in my cruddy and worn out mattress just praying that maybe the next day, things would be even remotely different. Yet it wasn't. God was either playing a sick and twisted game with me, or was forcing me to wait, which was sort of the same thing.

I sniffled, hanging over the sink as I washed dishes with my face buried in my tedious work. I passed the sniffles off as a cold, but avoiding any direct contact with Proof was something that no one believed.

Before I knew it, there was a tear rolling off my face and into the soapy water of the sink. I saw that one drop create a wave of rivets around the pool of the sink, my vague reflection becoming distorted and fractured, kind of like my heart.

I mean, Proof didn't have to fall in love with me. We could still be friends. We would call each other up when times got hard or we needed to hear each other's voices. We would talk about hip-hop and rock and see who was dope and who needed to be sent to the guilletine immediately. We could share homework in school throughout the day so we wouldn't get detention. We could hustle kids at school into betting hundreds of dollars saying I couldn't rap, and make lots of cash proving them wrong. We could laugh together. We could cry together. We could fight together. Because that's what friends do, but apparently he wasn't that interested in being a friend anymore, all because of this stupid attraction. I can't stop loving him. Ever.

"Hey Marsh!" a faint voice called from behind. I gasped in surprise, wiping away at my face for any other tears that may have escaped during my sorrow.

"Yeah Boss?" I asked. I turned around to show him my undivided attention, realizing quickly that he was going to ask something big of me. Just then I saw Proof walk up from behind him with this glazed over look in his eyes. He worked at little Caesar's with me, but we usually didn't have to be in close range with each other. I guess that was all about to change now.

He looked at me like a piece of meat, like he wanted to tear into me, and not in the good way that I've dreamed about since before I can remember.

"Deshaun is going to work with you on dishes tonight. We're surprisingly busy and low on silverware. Show him the ropes, will ya?" Pete, our boss, asked gently. I wanted to scream "no" as loud as I could at that moment, but my conscience told me differently. I couldn't be selfish like that.

"A'ight," I muttered, trying not to look at the dark depths of Proof's eyes. Pete gave him a pat on the back and left with a business- like grin. I opened my mouth to say something, staring at my feet and the dirty floor, but then quickly closed it. I did this about three more times before finally giving up and turning around back to the sink.

There was soft silence except for the rustling of the dishes I tangled with. I wondered if he was still there, just looking at me. It sure felt like there were eyes burning into my back. I sighed and wiped the sweat perspiring from my forehead with my forearm (funny how things coincide), waiting for something to happen. And something did.

I heard Proof moving around softly, yet I was so paranoid that it felt like a stereo system pressed right against my ear. Then more ear piercing silence, and then something was being wacked against my ass.

I turned around swiftly with a squeek, surprised to see him smiling and laughing like a fool at me as he pointed.

I immediately smiled along with him, giggling like an idiot. He had whipped a stupid towel on my ass. I went to get one too and we were in an all out giggling war until he suddenly stopped, giving me this adoring look. I stopped as well.

"What?" I asked, gasping slightly. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You look cute when you laugh."

I'm sorry. Hold the phone. Stop the presses. I wondered if maybe his dreds were rolled into his head too tight.

"Come again?" I asked, baffled. He laughed.

"I been thinkin' 'bout what happened, you know, when you sucked my face. That..."

"What? Doody, what? Please tell me! I'm dying here!" I pleaded, almost on my knees.

"I think I kinda..." he paused for a moment and started blushing softly. It was so adorable my heart almost exploded.

"I think I kinda, um..."

I couldn't take it. I leapt into his arms and kissed him long and deep. Little sparks flew in my head and I grinned into the earth shattering kiss. He kissed back.

Boy did he kiss back.

Before I could attempt it myself, he thrust his tongue into my mouth, searching there for what felt like hours. It was the best kiss of my existence. Period.

We broke apart reluctantly. He gave me a look of pure love and happiness.

"I love you," I said. And I meant it.

_"Everyone else is just tryna pick up the pieces_

_man how you touch so many fucking lives and just leave us_

_they say grievance has a way of affecting everyone different_

_if it's true, how the fuck am I supposed to get over you?"_

My body was covered in sweat, my biceps bulging, veins pulsing, heart racing as I rode him deep and hard. It was difficult for me to keep my eyes open at the electrifying sensation his touches gave me. Everytime I thought I could withstand a heartfelt stare into his eyes, he'd hit that spot, and send my nerves ablaze, making my eyelids flutter closed. He just laughed at my whimpering, holding my hips tightly as I bounced on him.

How could he stand it? How could just let out brief groans, yet not completely collapse of pure orgasmic bliss? I was tongue-tied, not able to breathe normally as his stiff and large member kept on touching all the right places with every bounce. I was under his magnetic spell, a tug of passion gripping me until I could no longer attempt to get away. I realized that he was now my rock. My everything. I couldn't even fathom doing something without him, from rapping to raising my daughter. Nothing.

Then everything was just a haze of white light over my blue eyes. With a gasp and a fierce grip on Deshaun's shoulders, I came. My spunk flew all over his stomach and chest, and the only thing I wanted to do then was lick it all up. Just as I started to come down from my high, Deshaun emptied his desire inside me, to which I squeaked like a little schoolgirl. It was embarrassing, but was a normal reaction at this point.

Deshaun groaned when he came, finally fluttering his own eyes closed. I fell ontop of him sleepily, resting my head in the crook of his neck. He smelled of cologne and sex, just the way I like him to smell. I smiled, a rare sight to behold. I could tell he felt it against his sensitive skin, since he bent his head to look at me, giving me an adorable and silly face. I just blushed under the covers and hid my face with a giggle.

"Why you gotta be like that?" he asked softly. I peered up at him, hiding my mouth under the silk sheets of the hotel bed.

"Like what?" I muttered, my smile still there.

"Why you gotta hide your cute smile all the time?" he asked wholeheartedly. He sounded a little upset, and my smile faded. I showed him my whole face, giving him my undivided and serious attention. Anything that Proof said seriously was enough to make you pay attention. "Why can't you show this Eminem to the world?"

He was referring to a couple hours earlier at the 2003 MTV VMAs when I totally flipped out. It was hard to be booed off stage like that, also being offended and just having an all around bad night full of thrown coolers and tables. Proof had to carry me to a dark corner to calm me down, singing me "Hailie's Song" and kissing my neck. I then apologized to everyone reluctantly and left with Obie and the gang, no one having any idea of how I calmed down so easily.

"Well...I...I'm supposed to be a hardass. That's what everyone expects," I confessed sadly. I felt silly and shy. Proof just gave me a look.

"Remember what I always told you back in Detroit?" he paused for a moment, not really expecting an answer, and continued. "Do the unexpected? Don't do what other people want you to do. Baby, you've been through so much, you don't need to give a fuck anymore."

"But I _don't_ give a fuck! I've never given a fuck since I was seventeen!" I yelled. Proof pressed a black finger to my lips and shooshed me. Just as soon as it was there, it was gone, leaving my lips cold and alone. I felt immediately worthless and lonely.

"Baby, look at me," he commanded. I just continued looking down at nothing, then gave up and turned away from his piercing stare. He wasn't going to win this one. He sighed behind me. "I guess you're not who I thought you were."

Tears left my eyes unexpectedly. I couldn't go to sleep on that note. Not even after all of the pills I took. I couldn't fall asleep.

"D?" I sobbed. I was fully turned around now, staring at his naked, chocolate back. "I love you. Don't say that. You know me better than anybody. I love you," I choked out. My throat was dry and my vision was blurry. I couldn't recall ever being so upset in my entire life. "Please, say you love me back."

A couple of painful seconds passed, and I had given up hope, until...

"I love you back."

He flipped his body around and embraced my skinny body into a warming hug. I felt my heart swell, realizing that there is no one else on this planet that could fill my heart with such joy except Proof. Music, Hailie and Proof. They're all I need to get by.

I was surprised to find tears rolling down my shoulder. I couldn't tell if they were mine or his. It didn't really matter anyway.

_"Doody, that's what we call each other_

_I don't know where it came from but it just stuck with us_

_we was always brothers_

_never thought about each others' skin colours..._

_Moving past it, it still ain't registered yet_

_but you can bet your legacy they'll never forget_

_the motor city motown_

_hip hop vet, hip hop shop, dreads_

_it don't stop there"_

"I'm gonna teach you a lesson boy," Deshaun seethed. I was already on the ground, gashes on my legs and arms, bruises developing on my face and chest, tears falling down my cheeks.

"Baby, please stop...It hurts," I plead. He just muttered and continued to throw his fists at me, making me scream in terror and beg for someone (anyone) on the outside to hear me in our hotel room.

He pushed me into the nightstand to shut me up.

"Quit your hollerin' boy!" he commanded loudly, sinister and mean. This time I didn't say anything when he punched me in the throat, but I crawled away quickly, trying to reside to the safety of underneath the bed. This just made Deshaun angrier, and he dug his long and bitten nails claw into my skin, making new welts and gashes. I screamed again, more so in pain than a search for help.

"STOP IT! Doody, you're hurting me! Please stop!" I called and plead. He just let one hand continue to claw into my skin whilst the other punched me repeatedly in the face and chest.

"You want me to stop, bitch?" he asked rhetorically. I just nodded, not able to speak anymore without sobbing and screaming. "Then tell me why you were talking to that cocksucker!"

Proof and I had gone to a bar after the release of Encore that day. It was around 11:00 p.m. when a very attractive man started talking to me. He was about my age, with long, Orlando Bloom type hair, a tight black shirt and tight pants. He started flirting with me and bought me a drink. He told me some funny jokes, I told him about my day, and then we parted ways. I didn't even remember his name, but he gave me his number. I was going to throw it out, but Proof came up to me with anger and envy in his dark eyes, begging that we go back to the hotel. I was terrified that something bad was going to happen, but I agreed. Something bad did happen.

"I don't know baby! I don't even remember his name. Just stop it, please!" I confessed honestly. Apparently it wasn't good enough for him, and he continued his assault.

He pulled me up off the ground by my neck. I felt the constriction shatter my breathing and cut off circulation in my arteries. I grabbed onto his wrists, trying to remove them from my neck. It was impossible. I felt myself getting dizzy, and absolutely no air was passing through my gasping mouth. Deshaun pushed me into the wall harshly, knocking the little air I contained out of me. A painting fell off the wall. I've never been so frightened in my entire life. Proof was going to kill me.

As a last resort, I lifted my hands from his wrists, and placed them around his neck as well. They were so outstretched that I felt my muscles strain to grip tightly around his throat. That's when Deshaun's face softened, and he looked into my eyes, releasing his harsh grip gradually. I accepted a large gulp of air into my lungs and my heart soared. He had that haunting and magical look of love still present in his dark eyes by the moonlight. This was it.

I never thought Deshaun could or would ever hurt me intentionally. Tonight was no exception. He was just broken inside, thinking that I didn't love him anymore. But I did. I loved him so much, more than words could describe. He was my rock. He was the ink to my paper, what my pen was to my pad. The moral, the very fiber, the substance to my rap. He was my reason for being, the meaning of my existence. He's essential to me, the air that I breathe. If he ever left me, I'd have no reason to be. He's the Kim to my Marshall. The Slim to my Shady. The Dre to my Eminem. The Alaina to my Hailie. He's the word that I'm looking for when I'm trying to describe how I feel inside. And no matter how much, too much is never enough...

"Maybe we're crazy in love..." he sang. That's when I smiled and we pulled our bodies together to share a kiss.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a promise. My one and only.

_"And this may sound a little strange but I'mma tell it_

_I found that jacket that you left at my wedding_

_and I picked it up to smell it_

_I wrapped it up in plastic until I put it in glass_

_and hang it up in the hallway so I can always look at it_

_And I know that it feels like the dreams will die with you today_

_but the truth is there all still here and you ain't"_

"C'mon Marsh, get up," 50 cooed in a whisper. I was piss drunk, hopped up on methadone and a couple Valiums, passing out on the studio floor. When I left the studio earlier for a lunch break, I intended on just getting a grilled cheese and coming back, but one thing led to another.

"Yo, what up wit Slim dawg?" Denaun (I think) asked from across the room. He was just a shadow in the doorway. Everything looked like the Arora Borealis in my eyes.

"Marshall, I thought you were sober, dawg. What happened?" 50 asked, pulling on my shoulders to get me off my ass. It was 2006, and Shady Records and I were recording Eminem Presents: The Re-Up.

"Prooooff happennn..." I slurred. In late 2005, I checked myself into rehab because of my supposed addiction to sleeping pills and muscle relaxers. I didn't exactly take it seriously, and relapsed as soon as I got out. Proof and I had been fighting constantly, and I used pills to cover it all up.

"What? Man, c'mon," 50 said in a disbelieving tone. Either that, or he didn't understand. Obviously I wasn't speaking perfect English.

"Marshall?" Speak of the Devil, Proof walked in, just as I received my footing on the carpeted ground. I looked up at him with my blurred vision and spit in his direction.

"YO! Whadda fuck dawg?" 50 demanded. I just ignored him and shrugged his hands off my shoulders. I stumbled towards Deshaun, who just stood there with a blank expression on his face.

"Yeah," I agreed. "What the fuck?" I was surprised at my ability to speak properly for those few seconds. His dark eyes pierced into my brain, and luckily it was so cluttered with drugs and liquor that it didn't penetrate or phase me.

"C'mon Marshall, let me take you home," he plead sincerely. I was too drunk and stubborn to accept it. I was done with the abuse, I was done with the pain. I loved him too much to let him do this to me.

"No. How 'bout _you_ go home? How about you never talk ta me ever again?" I bargained. Proof looked around the room, slightly embarrassed and slightly annoyed by me.

"Look," I commanded. "I love you, but I don't want you. Lovers don't hurt each other like you do to me. So leave. I don't wantchu." Proof didn't look annoyed anymore, he just looked upset.

Finally I lost my balance and fell to the floor, waiting for him to leave so I could fall asleep. Fall asleep and forget.

It was April 11th.

"Fine. I'll leave," he whispered down to me. "I'll leave. Watch me never come back."

I started crying then. He left without another word, just punching walls and breaking glass through the hallways.

Deshaun was always true to his word.

_"And Doody, it's true you bought people together who never_

_woulda been in the same room if it wasn't for you_

_You were the peacemaker Doody_

_I know sometimes you were moody_

_but you hated confrontation_

_and truly hated the feuding"_

"Not Proof, not Proof, not Proof, not Proof, not Proof, not Proof," I chanted under my breath. With each step, those started to become the only words that I knew. With each step, my hope for the truth of those words got stronger and stronger. With each step, a gaping hole erupted deeper and deeper within my heart. With each step, my rock began to crumble. Proof was supposed to be invincible, now he could hardly stand. I could hardly stand. I fell under the weight of his power over me. He was my hero. The one who would always be behind me in times of need. Now where is he?

He's up in the sky, where a hero belongs. Soaring, flying, saving, praying. How could a world collapse around me when he was busy making it better? How could a soul as pure as his be able to falter? Why did my heart continue to beat when it hurt so much?

Why can't a pill just make it all better? With blood falling in drops off of his broken head, he was still able to be a source of rememberence and lessons learned. A pill can't fix a broken heart, a broken head. A pill can't fix a problem that couldn't be solved. So why did I take them? Why did my mouth water at the thought?

His lyrics stole my breath. His heart stole my words. His voice stole my heart. He wanted it to beat, but I couldn't handle it. I'm not strong enough. I wasn't strong enough. But a pill wouldn't bring my darling back.

"I love you back."

"I love you Doody. My baby," I whispered to no one. But he heard me. I knew he heard me. That hospital bed with no one on it. He wasn't there anymore. He will never, ever, be there. He means so much to me.

I wonder where that coward is now. The one who killed him. The one with no excuse. The one who ruined my existence. I needed him. I've never felt so alone.

But he's gone. He'll never come back. But he's still here.

Live by the gun, die by the gun.

"Where are you?"

_"I let the pistol bang once just to leak a shot in the air  
>for you and pour some liquor out for you with Obie in the parking lot of 54<br>just before we were supposed to get in cars  
>to come and see you once more<em>  
><em><strong>Diffi<strong>__**cult as it sounds...**_  
>~~~<p>

"How you holdin' up babe?" 50 asked. I looked up at him from my notepad, giving him a smirk.

"I'm good," I said truthfully. It had been four years since Proof's death, and though I missed him more than anything, he was still alive in my heart.

"Good. I'm proud of you Marsh," 50 said emotionally. I blushed, and he placed a kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks Curtis," I whispered happily. He smiled down at me from the couch, and left the studio. I continued writing the last track for Recovery on my notepad.

"_You may be gone, but you're never over_."

"Sounds beautiful darling!" 50 called from outside. I giggled.

"Thank you!" I replied.

And I realized, living each day didn't have to be so painful. As long as my heart was still beating, I still had his legacy locked inside.

You can take the heart out of a man, but you can't take the man out of my heart.

"_I love you Doody_."


End file.
